


Inevitable

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Foot Fetish, foot play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to resist Tom can take a Herculean effort...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

  
_What you resist, persists_  - a wise person once said   


___________________________________________________

I’m sitting - no, make that half-lying - across the bed, shoulders propped up against the wall, laptop warming the top of my thighs like some sort of electronic cat. I’m wrapped in two jumpers on this London autumn evening, and my feet dangle at the end of the bed in careworn purple slipper-socks.

It’s only 9.30pm yet I’m shattered. I can _feel_  the bags under my eyes forming, dragging the skin down towards the tops of my cheeks.

Yet I can’t stop.

Too much work to do. A task list that needs thwarting. I want an empty plate for the weekend, with no work hanging over me, so I will stoically stay here at the screen until…

"It’s inevitable, shortcake," Tom appears at the end of the bed, kneeling on the floor as he looks up at me, taking one of my slipper-sock-covered feet in his large hands, and firmly encases my foot in his warm palm, squeezing gently.

"Hnnnm. What?" I groan, my eyes happily, briefly falling closed, before I force them open again, not wanting to lapse from my work.

Tom begins to massage the top of my foot through the sock fabric, near where my foot joins my ankle, using his thumb and index finger. He finds little ridges of tension and presses on them, sending pleasure waves up my leg.

"That you would tire out, eventually," he murmurs, and dips his head to press his forehead against the ball of my foot. 

Too tired to talk, I peel my eyes back to my spreadsheet, though remain ever-conscious of Tom’s movements further down the bed.

His forearms turning as he begins to peel off my slipper-sock.

His torso shifting as he lays the sock to the side on the floor.

My exposed foot adjust to the slight chill in the evening air.

But I look at the business figures on the screen.

"I know you’ve been trying to blot me out," his liquid voice floats across to me, and I sigh gently. 

"That you find me too distracting…," his voice trails off as he takes my massage bar from the dresser behind him, and I hear him unwrap it from its paper casing.

I instinctively bend my legs, bringing my legs up so my feet are lying flat on the mattress, away from him, closer to me. 

Just ten minutes more work to do…

"Trying to avoid my voice…," he smooths and melts the massage bar along his hands, turning the air vanilla with its scent. I can’t bear to look, as his fingers are glorious without the aid of the oily sheen of the massage bar.

"Trying not to sneak a peek at me, whenever you can," I hear him smile, and over the top of my laptop I see him lean across the bed with a long arm, his index finger extended, which he uses to trail a sleek line across my exposed foot with, from the top down to the tip of my big toe. 

I wriggle.

"You are strong, and remarkably self-disciplined," Tom carefully wraps an oiled hand around my ankle, and tugs to slide my leg down, straightened, returning my foot to where it was before - perilously close to his head.

I huff, the laptop bobbing and teetering on my thighs as I move. Is it already 1-0 to Hiddleston? Shall I call it quits now on my work and give in to him?

"I admire your will to be good," he continues, gently brushing his thumb along the inner side of my foot, as if he were stroking the side of my cheek. "Yet it merely feeds my hunger to break your will down."

I lower the screen of my laptop half-way, cheeks burning, intending to say something glib. Or at least look at him pointedly. 

Instead, I groan and shut my eyes as both his hands encase my foot, smoothly gliding from my heel up to my toes and back again, fingertips deftly pressing into the sole of my foot as he goes. My back involuntarily arches, and the laptop slips from my thighs. I scramble to stop it sliding down off the bed, roughly slam the power switch off then place it on the floor by the bed. Tom holds me in place all the while with his hands around my ankle.

Before I have time to make a snarky comment (like ‘Fine. There, I give up. You win, Hiddles <slow clap>’ or ‘I’m just letting you think you still have some power of me, but really, my willful resolve is enduring and unbreakable’), Tom lowers his lips to my big toe and kisses the top warmly, slowly, sending heat through my body. I can only stare at him mutely, my mouth open, trying to breathe normally.

"Wh…. why do you want to..," I pant, fingers clawing at the bedding either side of me, "… break my will down?"

His fingers languidly tease along the sides of my foot as he lowers his lips a little further down my big toe, suckling gently. I squeal, and my hips jerk upwards off the bed.

He moans quietly, then proceeds to give one full lazy lick along my instep, holding my ankle firmly to stop my leg from twitching.

"Because your iron will prevents me from loving you," Tom wraps his arms around my shin, slippery oil sliding between our limbs, and he gently laps along my toes in quick succession, one after the other. It tingles when his tongue leaves my skin, and I want to wriggle.

"You may want to distance yourself from me," he whispers, eyeing me from over the tips of my toes, "but I can’t bear to be apart from you."

"Tom…," I mewl, bending my unrestrained leg, as if it would help me shift away from him. 

Calmly, and assuredly, Tom nuzzles his nose along the arch of my foot. I can feel his breath ghost across my sensitive skin there in little puffs. 

"Why do you resist me?" he drags his lower lip along the side of my big toe, and I shiver. I dare gaze into his eyes, commanding and attentive, rooting me to the spot.

"I…I…," I can’t find words.I can’t explain my knee-jerk rebellion, my automatic response to go cold-turkey on him. To prove I can? To prove I can resist his advances? To show how ‘strong’ my will is, that he can’t cast a spell on me?

His warm palm gives my foot one last squeeze, before he crawls up the bed to kneel over me, his bent knees either side of my hips. 

"I can’t resist you," he murmurs simply, looking down at me. "Every cell in my body screams to be near you. If I resisted…," he leans down, propping his body up over me by resting on his elbows, his face now inches from mine. "…I wouldn’t survive."

I swallow, and watch his sneaky tongue snake across his top lip. 

"So please let me in," a vanilla-scented hand smooths back my hair, and he leans in closer to whisper at my ear.

"Please..

_please.._.”

 


End file.
